puzzle.’
‘What does it say?’ Mum demanded. ‘Is it some kind of message?’
‘I don’t know.’ I thought about the little strips of paper spread over my bedroom floor. ‘Maybe. It’s about a white-bearded king, with mines, and sea ports, and a good navy, and a daughter but no son. The daughter’s name is Emilie.’
‘It sounds like a fairytale,’ Bethan offered.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘It does. That’s just the way it sounds. That’s just the way it’s written.’
‘But it might be a piece of history,’ Ray mused. ‘What king had a daughter called Emilie? Can anyone remember?’
Mum, however, wasn’t interested in history. ‘You said something about its not being finished,’ she interrupted, fixing me with an anxious gaze. ‘How can you possibly tell?’
‘Well – I don’t know. It doesn’t feel finished.’ I tried to work out why. ‘Nothing’s happened yet. I think the king wants an heir.’
‘We should have a look at what you’ve done,’ Ray said, ‘and see what we think about it.’
‘Do you reckon the writing’ll stop when the story is finished?’ asked Bethan, whereupon we all looked at each other.
I had to admit, it was a smart thing to say.
After a pause, Ray remarked, ‘I wonder. That would solve the problem, wouldn’t it?’
‘As long as it’s not a three-thousand-page novel,’ Mum said. ‘We’ll be waiting years, if that’s the case.’
‘If that is the case, then we’ll have to move out,’ Ray declared. ‘We can’t live in a house that has a ghost permanently installed in one of the upstairs bedrooms.’
‘Oh, but Ray ,’ Mum protested, ‘think of the expense ! Agents’ fees and stamp duty -’ ‘I know, I know.’
‘And all the work I’ve put into this house!’ Mum wailed. ‘I couldn’t go through it all again.’
‘I know,’ said Ray, placing a hand on Mum’s. ‘It’s all right. I’m sure we’ll sort it out.’
Then Bethan asked, in a worried voice, whether the story on his bedroom wall contained any blood and guts. Anyone choking? Anyone suffocating? I knew just what he was getting at, and so did Mum. She said, ‘The daughter’s name in the story is Emilie, not Eglantine.’
‘But they both start with E,’ I pointed out. ‘Maybe Emilie was Eglantine’s second name. Or maybe Emilie stands for Eglantine. Maybe she is telling us what happened to her.’ I started to get excited. ‘Maybe she’s disguising it as a fairytale, but it’s really true! Maybe someone killed her, and she’s trying to tell us how! Maybe that’s why she’s haunting us -’
‘Maybe we ought to wait until PRISM has established if we are being haunted,’ Ray broke in, firmly. At which point the phone rang, and Mum went to answer it.
It was Sylvia, calling to inquire about the type of paint used on Bethan’s bedroom wall. She mentioned that she was consulting a chemical engineer about the possibility of substances reacting to other substances. There was a chance that the old writing was soaking through the paint, she said. Whatever she found out, she would call us again.
When she rang off, I grumbled, ‘You see? She doesn’t believe us.’
‘She has to rule out every logical explanation,’ said Ray.
‘And meanwhile, Bethan’s been kicked out of his own bedroom.’ I was very cross. ‘We should hire an exorcist, or something.’
But no one listened to me.
CHAPTER # five
I’d better explain about exorcists. Exorcists are people who perform exorcisms, and exorcisms are one way of driving out evil spirits. I’d learned about exorcisms when I was doing my research in the school library. I’d also learned that Catholic priests sometimes perform exorcisms, and I was wondering if Mum should call the local Catholic church when my friend Michelle discouraged me from suggesting it. But that was on Wednesday, and I haven’t told you what happened on Tuesday, yet.
On Tuesday morning, I went straight into Bethan’s bedroom as soon as I
‘What does it say?’ Mum demanded. ‘Is it some kind of message?’
‘I don’t know.’ I thought about the little strips of paper spread over my bedroom floor. ‘Maybe. It’s about a white-bearded king, with mines, and sea ports, and a good navy, and a daughter but no son. The daughter’s name is Emilie.’
‘It sounds like a fairytale,’ Bethan offered.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘It does. That’s just the way it sounds. That’s just the way it’s written.’
‘But it might be a piece of history,’ Ray mused. ‘What king had a daughter called Emilie? Can anyone remember?’
Mum, however, wasn’t interested in history. ‘You said something about its not being finished,’ she interrupted, fixing me with an anxious gaze. ‘How can you possibly tell?’
‘Well – I don’t know. It doesn’t feel finished.’ I tried to work out why. ‘Nothing’s happened yet. I think the king wants an heir.’
‘We should have a look at what you’ve done,’ Ray said, ‘and see what we think about it.’
‘Do you reckon the writing’ll stop when the story is finished?’ asked Bethan, whereupon we all looked at each other.
I had to admit, it was a smart thing to say.
After a pause, Ray remarked, ‘I wonder. That would solve the problem, wouldn’t it?’
‘As long as it’s not a three-thousand-page novel,’ Mum said. ‘We’ll be waiting years, if that’s the case.’
‘If that is the case, then we’ll have to move out,’ Ray declared. ‘We can’t live in a house that has a ghost permanently installed in one of the upstairs bedrooms.’
‘Oh, but Ray ,’ Mum protested, ‘think of the expense ! Agents’ fees and stamp duty -’ ‘I know, I know.’
‘And all the work I’ve put into this house!’ Mum wailed. ‘I couldn’t go through it all again.’
‘I know,’ said Ray, placing a hand on Mum’s. ‘It’s all right. I’m sure we’ll sort it out.’
Then Bethan asked, in a worried voice, whether the story on his bedroom wall contained any blood and guts. Anyone choking? Anyone suffocating? I knew just what he was getting at, and so did Mum. She said, ‘The daughter’s name in the story is Emilie, not Eglantine.’
‘But they both start with E,’ I pointed out. ‘Maybe Emilie was Eglantine’s second name. Or maybe Emilie stands for Eglantine. Maybe she is telling us what happened to her.’ I started to get excited. ‘Maybe she’s disguising it as a fairytale, but it’s really true! Maybe someone killed her, and she’s trying to tell us how! Maybe that’s why she’s haunting us -’
‘Maybe we ought to wait until PRISM has established if we are being haunted,’ Ray broke in, firmly. At which point the phone rang, and Mum went to answer it.
It was Sylvia, calling to inquire about the type of paint used on Bethan’s bedroom wall. She mentioned that she was consulting a chemical engineer about the possibility of substances reacting to other substances. There was a chance that the old writing was soaking through the paint, she said. Whatever she found out, she would call us again.
When she rang off, I grumbled, ‘You see? She doesn’t believe us.’
‘She has to rule out every logical explanation,’ said Ray.
‘And meanwhile, Bethan’s been kicked out of his own bedroom.’ I was very cross. ‘We should hire an exorcist, or something.’
But no one listened to me.
CHAPTER # five
I’d better explain about exorcists. Exorcists are people who perform exorcisms, and exorcisms are one way of driving out evil spirits. I’d learned about exorcisms when I was doing my research in the school library. I’d also learned that Catholic priests sometimes perform exorcisms, and I was wondering if Mum should call the local Catholic church when my friend Michelle discouraged me from suggesting it. But that was on Wednesday, and I haven’t told you what happened on Tuesday, yet.
On Tuesday morning, I went straight into Bethan’s bedroom as soon as I
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